When Valmond Came To Pontiac | Page 5

le roi, la reine! To a gentleman of the king, Vive Napoleon!"
This was chanted lightly, airily, with a sweetness almost absurd, coming as it did from so uncouth a musician. The last verses had a touch of pathos, droll yet searching:
"Oh, say, where goes your love? O gai, rive le roi! Oh, say, where goes your love? O gai, vive le roi! He rides on a white horse, Vive le roi, la reine! He wears a silver sword, Vive Napoleon!
"Oh, grand to the war he goes, O gai, vive le roi! Oh, grand to the war he goes, O gai, vive le roi! Gold and silver he will bring, Vive le roi, la reine; And eke the daughter of a king Vive Napoleon!" The crowd--women and men, youths and maidens--enthusiastically repeated again and again the last lines and the refrain, "Vive le roi, la reine! Vive Napoleon!"
Meanwhile the stranger stood, now looking at the singer with eager eyes, now searching the faces of the people, keen to see the effect upon them. His glance found the faces of the Cure, the avocat, and the auctioneer; and his eyes steadied to Medallion's humorous look, to the Cure's puzzled questioning, to the avocat's bird-like curiosity. It was plain they were not antagonistic (why should they be?); and he--was there any reason why he should care whether or no they were for him or against him?
True, he had entered the village in the dead of night, with many packages and much luggage, had roused the people at the Louis Quinze, the driver who had brought him departing before daybreak gaily, because of the gifts of gold given him above his wage. True, this singular gentleman had taken three rooms in the Louis Quinze, had paid the landlord in advance, and had then gone to bed, leaving word that he was not to be waked till three o'clock the next afternoon. True, the landlord could not by any hint or indirection discover from whence his midnight visitor came. But if a gentleman paid his way, and was generous and polite, and minded his own business, wherefore should people busy themselves about him? When he appeared on the veranda of the inn with the hot pennies, not a half-dozen people in the village had known aught of his presence in Pontiac. The children came first, to scorch their fingers and fill their pockets, and after them the idle young men, and the habitants in general.
The stranger having warmly shaken Parpon by the hand and again whispered in his ear, stepped forward. The last light of the setting sun was reflected from the red roof of the Little Chemist's shop upon the quaint figure and eloquent face, which had in it something of the gentleman, something of the comedian. The alert Medallion himself did not realise the touch of the comedian in him, till the white hand was waved grandiloquently over the heads of the crowd. Then something in the gesture corresponded with something in the face, and the auctioneer had a nut which he could not crack for many a day. The voice was musical,-- as fine in speaking almost as the dwarf's in singing,--and the attention of the children was caught by the rich, vibrating tones. He addressed himself to them.
"My children," he said, "my name is--Valmond! We have begun well; let us be better friends. I have come from far off to be one of you, to stay with you for awhile--who knows how long--how long?" He placed a finger meditatively on his lips, sending a sort of mystery into his look and bearing. "You are French, and so am I. You are playing on the shores of life, and so am I. You are beginning to think and dream, and so am I. We are only children till we begin to make our dreams our life. So I am one with you, for only now do I step from dream to action. My children, you shall be my brothers, and together we will sow the seed of action and reap the grain; we will make a happy garden of flowers, and violets shall bloom everywhere out of our dream--everywhere. Violets, my children, pluck the wild violets, and bring them to me, and I will give you silver for them, and I will love you. Never forget," he added, with a swelling voice, "that you owe your first duty to your mothers, and afterwards to your country, and to the spirit of France. I see afar"--he looked towards the setting sun, and stretched out his arm dramatically, yet such was the eloquence of his voice and person that not even the young Seigneur or Medallion smiled--"I see afar," he repeated, "the glory of our dreams fulfilled; after toil and struggle and loss: and